


Just for one Day

by SonnenFlower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Berlin Wall, F/F, Fairest of the Rare's Sing Me a Rare 2020 - UK Invasion, Historical References, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Investor Draco Malfoy, M/M, Peaceful Revolution, Professor Neville Longbottom, Song fic, references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonnenFlower/pseuds/SonnenFlower
Summary: Two communities separated by ignorance may just get their chance to coexist side by side thanks to two brave wizards and their supporters who gathered to make their stand as shouts of 'WE ARE THE PEOPLE!' echo down the streets.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy, Parvati Patil/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 45
Kudos: 30
Collections: Sing Me a Rare: UK Invasion!





	Just for one Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing Me a Rare: The UK Invasion. Much love to my beta GcGraywriter and alpha LunaRavenclaw9.  
> Song Prompt – [ Heroes - David Bowie ](https://youtu.be/lXgkuM2NhYI)
> 
> Anarchy prompt: fake/pretended relationship
> 
> This was also written for the 30th anniversary of the German reunion. 
> 
> Let walls never again become boarders!

London had these special, grey summer days each season. Days, where the sun never broke through the clouds and the rain seems to be standing in the air instead of actually falling. People would find themselves rushing through Diagon Alley, while kids would crowd in the entryways to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes or the Magical Menagerie instead of pressed against the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, ignoring their parents’ attempts to get moving. Owls flew around the still not fully repaired tower of Gringotts. If you listened closely, you could hear some stray Kneazles fighting between the fountain and a seemingly innocuous wall. If one looked closely at the wall, they might make out the shadow of an arch, the idea of a passway right through the middle. A tingle shivering up the spine of anyone paying enough attention would only intensify when the fighting Kneazles fled from the perimeter after edging too close. If someone searched the nearby alleys, both would be found dead, bleeding from their noses.

Today was one of those special grey summer days, but Neville Longbottom was lost in his own spiralling thoughts, paying little attention to the world going on around him. Sitting at a table in  _ The Black Dolphin _ , he should have been able to see the bleakness of the day through the window of the pub. Instead the windows - as most of this pub - were not what you’d expect them to be. Each one of the historic-looking frames, decorated down the sides with columns, topped with an imitation of a roof of a Roman temple. Everything promised an elevated view over the majestic street that thrived on the other side of this establishment, drawing the eye to look at the wonders through a pane of glass. But these windows hadn’t held glass in a very long time, if someone tried to look out of these windows their eyes would be met with the sight of a most common brick that walled up every single frame. 

These bricked up openings weren’t the only unusual thing in the pub. Every last piece of furniture that graced the interior was the darkest black imaginable. Every seat, table, and bar stool was hand-picked in this inky colour, even the bar had been made from an onyx looking stone. Though no one had dared to ask what the material was in a long time.

Still, the pub was much more than a black hole. The dark furniture may have seemed to be a drab choice, especially when you don’t get natural light from any windows, but the establishment was made colourful by each decoration that was some shade of the rainbow. There were statues of a Pug, and a French Bulldog adorned in midnight blue sparkles sitting on top of a bright magenta dog bed. A golden Psyche was entwined in an everlasting kiss with a silver Armor while an emerald coloured Hermaphrodite gave personal advice to everyone who willingly, or unwillingly, listened to them, while two sea dragons bound in a never-ending courtship of changing colours twirled along the walls of the pub. The decorations covered every inch of the pub while still carefully avoiding the bricked up parts that used to be windows as if the occupants still hoped to have the freedom to one day look out panes of glass instead of dirty stones again. 

As bright as the decorations were, nothing compared to the people frequenting the pub. People dressed in all colours of the rainbow, sprinkled with glitter and a healthy dose of mesh and heels filling the whole place. Against the black furniture of the pub, every single person looked like a freshly hatched butterfly pulled right out of their cocoon to glow in the light of the everlasting night. 

But even this bright, sometimes distracting explosion of colours did nothing to draw Neville’s attention on this particular day. His hooded eyes fixed on the swirling of the ruby liquid sloshing in his glass, fingers never resting as they continuously swirled his wine chasing the ever-elusive truth at the bottom of his glass. Contemplating his right at drowning his sorrows in a good drink after he had fucked up this bad, his musings were broken by the exact edition of the Prophet that circled his thoughts being slammed on the table right in front of him.

“Well Longbottom, when you told me you were thinking about coming out, I falsely assumed you would be talking about your den of kitty friends, not the whole fucking world. Though I feel you deserve some applause, once more you’ve exceeded my ever lacking expectations. So, let’s drink to your victory in showing the world a little bit of reality. Why don’t we?”

He thought about not answering, but he knew from experience that only prolonged the inevitable, so he gave up on that idea. But still, no one said he had to be enthusiastic about it!

“Shush, Draco. We both know that this was not what I had planned at all.”

The man before him draped himself over the black bench like it was his birthright. Clad in a midnight blue suit, he would have impressed every muggle from the financial district, as long as he didn’t move. There was an unmistakable shimmer every time the suit caught the light. Every ray of light looked like a peacock spreading his tail right there on the suit. It was an explosion of colour that demanded nothing less than the full attention of anyone who saw it. The perfectly cut suit was combined with a see-through oxford - though, Neville would never disclose knowing about that - were enough to be distracting in their own right, but when paired with glittering, peacock coloured stilettos that covered his stockinged feet, well the man in front of him was not only stunning, but he easily pulled the eye of everyone in the pub that night. Everyone except Neville, he was still staring into his drink as he tried to ignore the exuberant persona seated at his table.

“You mean you didn’t intend to shout your queerness to that poor Prophet reporter? Colour me shocked, Longbottom! I might have expected a Gryffindor like yourself to show a bit more courage.”

“As I tried to tell you before Draco, please just shut up. This is neither the day I want to talk to you nor the topic I’d want to talk about!”

“Too bad, this is a topic I have to say a lot about today - if you haven’t noticed.”

Neville’s response was nothing more than an unintelligent groan that seemingly meant nothing and everything at once. Today had been one of the worst days of his life, and that was saying something considering he had fought in the final battle and beheaded a giant snake after surviving Hogwarts under the Carrows. Something everyone seemed to have forgotten in light of the so-called ‘revelation of the century’. The ‘Snake Slayer was Speaking Snake’ or how the prophet put it in his first headline ‘Longbottom, Nothing but a Bum Bandit?’ They couldn’t even come up with a good alliteration! He should have at least earned himself one of those.

As if on autopilot, his hand jerked to his pocket. No matter how hard he tried not to dwell on it, the seemingly innocent piece of paper sitting in his pocket felt like the weight of heaven on his shoulders at one moment and fiendfire burning him up from the inside the next. Nothing would change if he looked at it again. Nothing but his wave of displeasure, turning even more rigid as it sloshed through him. Embarrassment, humiliation, hopelessness and fear. The whole parade of feelings that made him crumple into his helplessness was marching through him. It was over. He couldn’t beat them, not even for a day.

“You know what’s interesting about us humans? We are usually so predictable.” 

The voice of Draco Malfoy was pulling him out of his melancholy thoughts again. Why couldn’t he just leave him be. This was his own end of the world. And personally, he preferred to face it alone, behind a walled up window, with a drink in his hand. 

It felt so fitting, sitting beside this forever darkened window, the walls erected as a physical reminder they were unwelcome in  _ normal _ society _. _ . The occupants inside, long forgotten by everyone who passed in Diagon Alley. They had closed them off, never to be seen again. Still Draco didn’t appear to notice he was intruding, continuing to prattle on

“But your reaction was strange, Longbottom. I understand the rage that they couldn’t even come up with a suitable alliteration for your coming out, but is that really all the reaction you will give me? And why did your hand jerked to your pocket? Is this,” he asked, waving the Prophet in front of his nose, “what has you drinking at three in the afternoon? I would have expected you to pull yourself back from the brink and all that rot. But you haven't.”

Neville only shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell him. The past twenty-four hours had been bad enough without him talking about it. But again Draco fucking Malfoy didn’t seem to know the concept of privacy and with a swish of his hawthorn wand the dreaded letter zoomed out of his pocket. He thought about trying to catch it, but honestly, what would that help? It would probably be the headline of tomorrow’s prophet anyway.

_ Longbottom Treacherous Teaching Terminated _

That would make a bestselling headline! The letter from the School Governors has been quite clear. Either he’d leave quietly on his own with a nice little gratuity or they would find a way to sack him - as publicly as possible. Neville didn’t doubt they would find a way. No one would sack him for coming out, legally they couldn’t, but everyone would know the reason he had to go. 

It didn’t matter that he had improved Hogwarts reputation for Herbology even further under his careful tutelage than it had during Professor Sprout’s reign. No one would mention his newest Order of Merlin for his finding of the twelfth use of Mandrake leaves nor would they remember that he had become the youngest Head of House in centuries. All that would be left of his legacy was the fact that he was gay and the harmful influence he must have had on the children in his care. 

His shoulders sagged a little further while his mind flung itself down another spiral. All he had ever wanted was to work with plants and teach children to hone their magic. He had been screaming inside his mind for hours now. Sometimes he felt like his inner voice would turn hoarse as if he were actually screaming, but it didn’t. While his body became more numb as the minutes ticked on, his mind seemed to scream even louder with each passing second. Hadn’t he fought on the frontlines of a war for the safety of all those people out there? Hadn’t he been a child soldier, thrust into a battle by others? Didn’t that earn him the right to love who he wanted to love?

“You’re not seriously thinking about giving in are you, Longbottom? They have nothing on you, nothing but your own shame. And since we both know you have nothing to be ashamed of, what do they really have?”

“But there is no chance they will let me–”

“Nevillina Augusta Longbottom, don’t tell me the great Gryffindor lion is planning to chicken out on me and doesn’t intend to at least leave with a roar. What’s the worst that can happen? You will lose your job? The Prophet will let everyone know you are gay? Well darling let me get one thing straight here - I swear it will be the only straight thing tonight,” Draco leaned towards Neville, speaking with an intensity Neville just couldn’t resist. He seemed to brighten their dark nook to an extent that Neville felt like he had a front row seat to watch as a dragon tailed his prey, “If you give in, then you have already lost your job because they will not stop until they find a reason to fire your cute little arse. And concerning the Prophet...what shall I say? If I were you, I’d expect a chosen gift basket soon. You know today’s Prophet was the first edition that didn’t mention our great Chosen One at least once since 1997?”

It was uncalled for how the little smile that crinkled around Draco's eyes could change this whole situation. With a clarity Neville hadn’t been able to see since way before he opened today’s newspaper, he knew one thing. He had turned from the onlooker into the dragon's prey - Draco Malfoy had a plan and there was nothing Neville could do to stop him from enacting it. 

**—**

The sun was glinting off the surface of the Black Lake while a flock of Thestrals stuck their heads out of the tree line as if they were looking for something. One of their foals stumbled on the road just in front of Neville as he made his way towards Hogsmeade. 

“Careful, little one! What are you even doing here?” 

The foal just fixed him with its onyx eyes while cocking its head slightly. 

“Don’t look like that, I know that someone could ask the same of myself.” 

Tenderly he reached out and started brushing the foal’s mane while he searched for an apple in his pocket. 

“I have no idea how I ended up here myself. I mean, sure, I walked down here of my own volition. But if someone had told me five years ago I’d be outed by the Prophet and now planning to fight the threat of being fired, well I probably wouldn’t have believed that. I mean not the part with the Prophet, but you know - fighting it? Though I should have seen that one coming. Still- I know Draco said that I need to show the committee that I live my life the same way as everyone else. That I have a stable relationship and all. But I can’t seem to wrap my head around how being in a relationship - and a pretend one I might add - will help me keep my job. Draco had this wonderful explanation as to how it could, but I think I am still confused on the specifics.” 

The foal flinched and jumped back to its mother as a sudden noise sounded to their left.

“Darling, are you sharing our secrets with mother nature again? I thought only your plants were privy to your inner turmoils.”

How he hadn’t seen the man who occupied his every thought of late coming up the road was a mystery to him but, nevertheless, Draco Malfoy was standing right in front of him on the dusty road to the village.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t-. I mean I wasn’t-. You-. Am I late?”

“Articulate as always darling.” Draco chuckled as he took Neville’s hand and turned to walk in the direction of the village. “Sometimes I wonder how that reporter ever understood what you were yelling at them.”

Before he could retort, Draco shook his head, the sight of his silvery blond hair dancing in the summer sun distracting Neville from his reply. Luna would probably say something about it being a dancing circle for some creature or another, as ethereal as it looked, and for once he would have believed her without a second thought.

Even though Draco’s hair gave him some kind of angelic look, he was wearing his ‘public clothes’ today. No peacock shimmers or stilettos, just a smart cut suit and pair of polished brogue. Somehow Neville was disappointed by his lack of flare.

“Just to refresh your memory, Longbottom, we will be going for a stroll through Hogsmeade. Let people see us, and hopefully someone will take a picture for the Prophet. We need people to get used to seeing us together if we want this to work. We have 1.5 months to switch the public opinion so you will keep your job.”

“Yeah, about that, I was thinking -.” 

“Please don’t strain yourself darling. What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

The look Draco shot him had his mind tumbling down a completely different train of thought, but telling him that he didn’t like the feeling of underwear, and hence usually went without, was really not where he was trying to go with this conversation.

“I mean, what about  _ your  _ job? Won’t coming out like this harm you as well? I mean, you really don’t need to do this for me.”

“Gryffindors, honestly! Could you please assume for just one moment that I wouldn’t jump into this if it would get me into trouble? Believe me this is an investment for me as well, and one that I’m sure will pay out.”

“But -,”

“No, this won’t harm my job. I make my money mostly by investments, and no one cares about me as long as I have my money. I’m an ex-Death Eater, my darling. Adding gay into the mix won’t change anything about the way the public perceves me. It doesn’t get worse than this mark on my arm.” The eyeroll with which Draco delivered his explanation sounded through every syllable and Neville had the distinct feeling to better not bring it up again, ever. 

‘A stroll through Hogsmeade’ turned out to be synonymous with a shopping spree through every place of business the little village had to offer. Fingers interlaced almost the entire time, Draco pulled him from Honeydukes Sweetshop to Scrivenhaft’s Quill Shop just to land them at Gladrags Wizardwear after a short lunch break. Upon entering the establishment he was promptly parked in a comfy little armchair in front of the changing rooms, while Draco disappeared behind the fitting room door in a myriad of bright colours and rich fabrics, most of which Neville couldn’t even begin to try and name. 

Sitting in his brown recliner he began to feel like the only drab spot in this explosion of colour. The shop clerk eyed him the entire time, each look solidifying his thought of not belonging within this explosion of pigments and taste. No one would believe that he could have caught the eye of someone as extraordinary as Draco Malfoy. One look at the two together and everyone would see the truth. They would see through the facade down to the nitty gritty fact that Draco was only with him for show, out of pity to help him save his job,  _ not _ because he liked him. If someone saw them together they’d inevitably see a king accompanied by some lucky peasant. How could he ever be more than a common pawn in the greater scheme of things?

“Oh gosh, I know that look and I won’t have it!” A familiar voice remarked.

Neville startled so much, he found himself on the floor in front of his armchair, a gasp of air stuck in his throat until he noticed a grinning redhead towering over him.

“Ginny -,” 

“Hello, Sunshine! I know I’m breathtaking, but there’s really no need to throw yourself at my feet. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but we can meet on eye level, don’t you think? I also have the sneaking suspicion that your man will go for one of our heads - more than likely mine - if your focus isn’t back on him ASAP.” With a little wink she nodded to the side where Draco was indeed standing in front of the mirror frowning at the two of them.

“Don’t worry Malfoy. I won’t steal your man.” One hand held up in a placating gesture towards the still frowning man while she offered her other to help pull Neville off the ground, where he was still sprawled.

“I don’t know if you missed the Prophet this last week Red, but Neville isn’t playing for your team. Also, I wouldn’t worry about you being able to steal him even when he was, Malfoy’s always keep what they set their eyes on.”

Clutching her hands over her heart Ginny gave a heartbreaking whine, “That went straight to the heart, Malfoy. How could you wound me like this?” 

With a sideways glance, her whole posture seemed to change though. Shoulders pulled back, spine straightened just the smallest bit, chin jutting out as if in defiance, she suddenly had the aura of a lioness preparing to pounce. 

“I am playing for Neville's team though, well, playing on the same side at least, to stick with your metaphor. And since I heard you were going to go public, I wanted to speak with the two of you.” Leveling her stare solely on Neville now, she continued. “Being outed that way and having no control over it at all, that must be hell, Neville. But I’m so proud of how you are handling it.” 

At Ginny’s words, Neville had a brief flashback to Draco carrying him out of The Black Dolphin that first night, so drunk he could barely lift his own head from where it rested on the blond’s shoulder. 

“You not giving in - again - means so much to me. Somehow this reminds me of my Sixth year again, of the Battle and all the struggles before that final night. I couldn’t have fought the Carrow’s the way we did without you there, you know, none of us could have had your strength and perseverance.”

What was happening here? Was Ginny Weasley, of all people, babbling? 

“Ah shit, this is harder than I thought. – What I’m trying to say is...well I’m gay and I’m with Pavati and we talked about joing in this–” She gestured a little helplessly between the three of them. 

While Neville realised that Draco's frown had somewhere along her monologue changed into a brilliant smile, that brightened the whole shop, he was startled once more by another familiar voice.

“What my sweet girlfriend here is failing at saying is, we are standing by you!” Parvati had turned up out of nowhere. He should probably start paying more attention to his surroundings, Neville thought, after he was startled once more by one of his fellow Gryffindors. “We don’t know what you are planning, but we want to help and we are ready to go public as well. It’s time for certain walls to be broken down. Don’t you think?” 

He wasn’t sure if Parvati wanted to underline her statement or was just to saying hello to Ginny, but she ended her declaration by planting a thorough kiss on the redhead’s lips.

“I think I might start to appreciate this Gryffindor bravery everyone is talking about in certain circumstances.” 

Draco's drawl was completely permeated by his still beaming eyes.

“I guess you have to get used to it, Draco.” Ginny's voice dropped into her sweetest sugar coated tone, that had Neville instantly on edge. “Haven’t you heard about us Weasleys? We only come in a handy pack of nine these days.”

Releasing the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, Neville started to wonder what was wrong with his sensory system today. The shop suddenly disappeared in a whirlwind of hot and cold shivers followed closely by waves of giddiness cresting over his head. With the whole Weasley-Clan backing them, he might actually have a chance to keep his job. Maybe there was even a chance they could truly change something! 

_ Was this what hope felt like?  _

He threw a cautious look at Draco. Would this new development fit into his plans? Would he even be willing to work with all the Weasleys? Did he understand that inevitable included Harry as well? He couldn’t answer any of those questions though since his look was only met by an adorable slack-jawed Draco that didn’t seem to have processed anything said after Parvati’s declaration.

“But first we have to get Neville some new clothes.”

Of course this statement was what finally pulled Draco from his stupor. “Why? He always looks amazing.”

It seemed to be Neville’s turn to mine a decorative, slack-jawed statue.  _ What had Draco just said? That couldn’t be right. _ And with the sensation of an ice bucket being upended down his back, he understood. Draco was only playing his part. It was his job to act like he didn’t see the contrast between the two of them. His role dictated him to overlook the obvious. Right?

“That’s something you and I know, Draco, but can’t you see Neville doesn’t feel that way?”

Instantly those piercing, grey eyes were back on him. Drilling through every defence he’d ever managed to erect and before Draco could so much as lift an eyebrow, let alone utter a single word, Neville gelt himself unable to resist from trying to form an explanation.

“Draco you are just- you are like one of these fairy tale kings... and I mean - I’m just - I’m me, you know. I’m just this normal guy from next door. Nothing special ar all.”

He wanted to shrink back into his armchair.  _ Why had he said that? _ Any moment now, Draco’s look of utter bafflement would change into a dawning understanding, after that there would be nothing for Draco to do but tell him all of this was a big mistake. Call their little charade off, because nothing good would ever come of it. Draco would finally see that Neville had nothing to offer him, nothing worth anything at least. He felt something shatter inside of him with that final thought. This would be it. But the next words out of Draco's mouth weren’t dismissive and the look of bafflement stayed firmly in place.

“He doesn’t know. He _ really _ doesn’t know.” Tilting his head as his stare intensified, Draco focused back on him. “Darling, if I am King, then you shall be Queen. And the queen always outshines their king.” He shook his head slightly when Neville took a deep breath to disagree with him. “Ah, ah, darling, no arguing. We will find you something to make sure you feel it, even if only for one day!”

At that, Parvati, who had apparently left them some time ago, returned with a tray of butter beer. Upon hearing the end of their conversation, she added,“Well, now, how handy that this is my shop. I might be able to help with that.”

When the Prophet finally got a picture of the outing it was late afternoon, the sun bathing both couples in a warm, golden glow. Draco leaned over whispering something into Neville's ear while Ginny and Parvati giggled at something between just the two of them. A secret little smile played around Neville’s mouth and a battalion of shopping bags followed them down the street.

—

Eating in the magical section of Gordan Ramsay's three-star restaurant had always been one of Neville’s, not so secret, dreams and no tale of tiny portions or needing more food after you left could do anything to change that. So, when Draco had asked him to name something he had always wanted to do with a partner while they were seated in front of his crackling fireplace with a glass of the exquisite red wine Draco had brought for their planning session, Neville had confessed what he thought would be one of the less embarrassing ones and he ended up wishing he would have picked anything else instead.

Not because he was doing something with Draco he had always hoped to do with someone special - Draco definitely  _ was _ special, granted a different kind of special, but special nevertheless - but because this was not what he had dreamed of. 

The evening had started so beautifully. Neville raided his dresser for his best pair of dress robes, the one his grandma had made for him for his second Order of Merlin ceremony where he had truly felt like he deserved the recognition for the first time in his life. They were a beautiful pair of dark red robes with a secret Mandrake stitched into the lining that would give him a pep talk if he needed one.

It had felt so much like a real date, Draco appearing on his doorstep clad again in a muggle suit, a charcol one this time, that underlined every single one of Draco’s best features. Neville felt like smashing his head against the next solid surface as the thought,  _ probably all of Draco’s features were his best _ , flashed across his mind again. Though, the frequency with which this thought came back to him would guarantee a concussion for him, at this point, had he given into that desire. 

Everything had still been so perfect while they sat at one of the small round tables with the white and black tablecloths until the waiter stepped up to the table and asked for their drink order. At first Neville didn’t notice anything, too enraptured by Dracos easy smile every time his eyes wandered away from the wine card in front of him. He’d insisted on choosing their wine for the night, wanting to impress Draco with one of the few things he truly knew he could. Winery was just another department of Herbology and as such part of his expertise. But, finally able to drag his eyes away from the view in front of him and turning with a smile towards their waiter to order, he froze as a cold breeze of reality seemed to wash away the magic that had surrounded them mere seconds before. 

It wasn’t as if the waiter said anything in that moment, but he didn’t need to. The disgusted frown his face was contorted into while he looked down his nose and awaited Neville’s order said plenty. This was to be expected, Neville reminded himself. He’d had had more than enough encounters with people telling him what a disgusting excuse of a man he was, how they knew this great therapy that would surely cure him, and plenty of other vulgar ideas ever since the first Prophet article had broken. He’d stopped reading his post altogether at this point, but somehow he had felt safe at their little table with the sparkle of candlelight above them. The waiter had taken their order with a court nod, not a single word was spoken, but the innocence of the night had already been lost.

Neville still hoped it could be turned around, clinging to the thought of magical food and a perfectly chosen wine being shared with good company. Trusting in their strength to shield themselves from the harsh world, he tried to lose himself in the warmth of Draco's hand while they waited for their main course to appear in front of them,but hope wasn’t enough to silence the bigotry. Why Gordan Ramsey, of all people, insisted on human waiters was beyond him. If he’d been able to order directly from his plate, as it was custom in so many other wizarding restaurants, all of this could have been avoided. As it was, nothing was able to hinder the occurrences that followed Draco’s momentous decision to take one of his hands, lying on the soft black tablecloth.

“No one wants to see this.” 

It had only been one sentence that finally shattered their night. 

“Don’t you think you should keep stuff like that to your own?” 

The vitriol spewed only got worse from there. Despite each of their house attributes, Draco was the one to rashly explode, while Neville only shrank in on himself. A scary amount of flying dishes later Draco screamed at the waiter, who screamed right back at Draco, who then screamed at another guest, causing a chain reaction of screaming across the entire restaurant. The cacophony of shouts spinning throughout the restaurant contained sentences like; _I don’t care that you are gay, but_ ; or, _as long as this doesn’t include children_ ; even a hurtful, _as long as you and your people stay away from us normal ones I don’t care_. The crowning moment was Gordon Ramsey demonstrating his famous ‘idiot sandwich’ with a quite unwilling waiter as participant. The best that could be said about the evening was that it was memorable. A few hours later it would become clear that it was even historical, but no one knew that at this point.

No apology or special treat from the kitchen could save their dinner, so Neville asked Draco for them both to leave at the next opportunity. With the night still young, the wrong pictures taken and the mood quite melancholy, they made their way out of the restaurant. 

There were only a few places where they would feel safe, free after an encounter like this, so they took a cab to Charing Cross, passed through Diagon Alley and entered Knockturn Alley through a little known side entrance. Passing by shady shops wasn’t something Neville enjoyed even on a good day - and this was definitely not one of them - but this was the only entrance left to their sanctuary. Hidden behind a strangly muggle looking striplight, a brightly coloured arrow seeming to point at nothing, lay the last entrance to the magical part of Old Compton Street, the people who knew and frequented it simply called it Mocs - Magic Old Compton Street. Some centuries back, way before Voldemort and even Grindelwald, someone had decided the people here weren’t fit for polite society and so, a wall was built. A wall most visitors of Diagon Alley didn’t even know, let alone cared about, but it was a wall that slashed right through the hearts of the occupants of Mocs just as it walled them off from the rest of the wizarding world.

Stumbling through the familiar twists and turns, both of them hadn’t as much as whispered a single world since they’d left the restaurant. What was there to say when reality had caught up with them? What could be said when they had lived through so much worse? But the pain of their past didn’t diminish this hurt any less. There was nothing to say but hollow words that had lost their meaning long ago.After being uttered so much, they became more of a ritual than actual words. Something to hold on to, something to try and remind them there were others like them, that what happened still wasn’t ok. After the frequent repetition the words only sounded strange. Freed of all meaning the only thing that remained was a cluster of letters in a random compilation. So why talk when there was nothing left to say? 

Instead, they ended up in front of the wishing well, as everyone who knew about this place did one time or another, still holding each other's hand, still silent. Hermione once tried to explain why the term wishing well in the magical world was deceptive for everyone from a non-magical upbringing. It didn’t describe a fountain that would fulfill a wish, but more closely resembling something equivalent to a muggle search and offer corkboard. 

Why someone expected a wishing well to truly fulfill wishes, he never understood, but that was probably one of those muggle magic concepts he would never fully grasp. 

As it was, the well would provide you with the knowledge of someone that offered whatever you were searching for or the other way round. The first time Neville had seen the well’s magic provide an answer to a wisher, it had reminded him of the Goblet of Fire. A water arm had shot out of the well but instead of releasing a scrap of paper it touched the wisher’s forehead. He couldn’t be sure how it truly worked having never actually wished upon it before, but the flow of water was astonishingly soothing. The water glittered and glinted on its way in a perfect circle around an old willow tree. Not one drop was ever lost from the perfect course it was on, only ever broken by a single arm of water shooting out to gift someone with an answer. 

Neville had often contemplated to ask for this or offer that, but he had never gone through with it. Somehow, the ever turning crystal clear circle of water always intimidated him. He wasn’t even sure how he could tell that the water was turning under its crystal clear surface, but he would have given his last Knut to bet on it. He just knew, just like he had always known that one day he’d need the well, truly need it. 

Standing in front of it now he knew the time had come, but he didn’t even try to formulate his thoughts. He was a mere vessel of swirling emotions. All his anxiety burned away on their rushed walk from Charing Cross until they stopped right in front of the willow, which only left his frustration and hopelessness crashing inside him. While he focused on the circle of water he started to feel more emotions bubbling to the surface. Waves of readiness crashed through him, while his old stubbornness reared back up reminding him that sometimes things were more black and white than gray, and that the shame was sometimes fully on the other side. 

_ They could be heroes, even if just for one day.  _

With that being his first clear thought shooting through his mind while he stood in front of the wishing willow well, his hand still clasped with his pretended boyfriend Draco Malfoy, something changed. Neville wouldn’t later be able to explain the chain of events or if everything had happened at the same time but somewhere along the way their grip on each other became stronger, his spine straighter, his heartbeat slower as he took a breath that had felt like the first wisp of fresh air on a spring morning, like the first glimpse of freedom and somehow he knew that Draco felt the same. 

Without turning his head to confirm, he knew they both stood there watching the tree while the water started to turn faster and faster catching both of them in a glow neither had ever seen. With the clarity of a clear autumn day they were given the knowledge of every person that had ever stood in their place and wished for someone to stand up for them. It felt like the well had been waiting for someone to be receptive for all the hope people had relayed into their wishes, for their willingness to step up, if only one would ever make the first step. 

With the water starting to glow brighter and brighter, the court behind them started to fill. One after the other people who had wished for someone to make the first step started to appear. One after the other, they stood quietly behind them. Neville felt as every single one of them appeared, like tiny pieces of one, large organism. Still, the silence went on and no one broke it. No one needed to, they knew why they were there. 

Finally Neville turned to Draco and tried to convey all his conviction in one look - we can beat them, forever and ever. And when his eyes were met with equal determination, he knew - we  _ can _ be heroes, even if just for one night! Without breaking their silence, they started walking. There was only one destination anyway. 

Leaving the tunnel from Mocs into Knockturn Alley he realised something else, the magical world of Great Britain was quite small and it didn’t matter what time it was, when more or less every queer wizarding person suddenly gathered in one place, others were bound to notice as well. What had him truly puzzled though wasn’t the fact that people had noticed, but there seemed to be another large crowd waiting to join them as well. The minute he and Draco had left the tunnel into Knockturn Alley he was met with some very familiar faces. Right next to the entrance stood his grandma standing near Harry and Hermione, as well as all Weasleys beside Ginny, who Neville had spotted previously in the wishing well courtyard. His gran smiled at him and nodded briefly before she handed him a lit candle. It was a very short encounter before she turned to someone else, still handing out candles, just like the others she stood with were doing, but Neville was sure this brief moment of acceptance from the most important person in his life would fuel his patronus for a lifetime.

With a candle gripped in one hand and the other still surely intertwined with Draco’s, he restarted their journey out of Knockturn Alley down to the Ministry, their numbers growing by the minute as more and more people joined in their cause.

Upon reaching their destiny, the silence had manifested around them like a shield protecting them along their way as those marching stayed quiet. A group of aurors were expecting them, wands ready in battle mode, and still, no one felt like they would act anytime soon. This was not what the Aurors were used to. There were no riots to control, no screams to silence and no delinquents to catch. Just a sea of people with candles in their hands silently filling the dirty alley around the shabby red phone box that marked the visitors entrance of the Ministry. 

This time it was Draco who tugged at Neville’s hand to move with him and together they walked this last meters towards the Aurors and kneeled to the ground, each placing their candle right in front of them, before Draco apparated them away.

“You know, this was only the beginning, don’t you?” He asked as soon as they rematerialised.

“I know, but they will come back again tomorrow.”

—

The Prophet the next day only mentioned the events of the previous night at the bottom of page four with a quote from a Ministry official stating, “[he] wouldn’t care about some addled individuals leaving candles at the visitor entrance of the Ministry, as long as they ‘weren’t bothering the people’. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give them a slogan. 

The next day their numbers had nearly doubled and they were quiet no more. “WE ARE THE PEOPLE!” had become the mantra they started repeating full-throated as they made their way from the wishing willow well to the Ministry again. This time though, they halted right in front of a plain wall opposite from Gringotts about halfway along their journey, and when they left, the wall was many things but plain wasn’t one of them. Led by Dean Thomas, a group of artists reclaimed the wall for the queer community. They couldn’t tear it down themselves, the magic protecting it much too strong, but they could reclaim it.

When the protest march moved towards the Ministry once more, the wall showed a comic book style timeline showcasing the history of the queer community in Great Britain. Only interrupted by a huge drawn archway with widely open doors.

Each day, more colourful protesters would make their way from Mocs to the Ministry, carrying candles and chanting “We are the people!” Each day some Ministry official or another promised to take the worries of the protesters into account and initiate a discussion about necessary change in the next Wizengamot meeting which never seemed to take place. Aurors were stationed in front of the newly named Gringotts Gallery around the clock. Whispers flew around that they tried to clean the wall by magical and muggle means, but either they hadn’t tried all that hard or they found they were unable to remove the depictions, the Gringotts Gallery was still intact and the number of protesters still grew. Popular figures from Britain and all over Europe declared their solidarity with them and every time Neville and Draco were there, walking in front of the march, hands firmly intertwined burning in the inside and not being able to say why.

It took weeks for the Ministry to finally break. On the 9th August the Ministry held another press conference like they had done every day since the protests had started. The press conference appeared to end any moment when Penepole Clearwater said the critical words. “We understand that the entrance restrictions to the so-called Mocs part of Diagon Alley are no longer timley. We therefore declare those restrictions futile.”

It took the present journalists a few seconds to realise the significance of the situation. When they did though, most of them were unsure how to react. Which was all the opening Luna Lovegood needed to take the floor, “When can we expect this new legislation to come into effect?” Her straightforward question delivered in a dreamy voice. 

Miss Clearwater still seemed to have not expected that line of questioning as she started to shuffle through her notes.

“I think this comes into effect immediately-. Err, - Yes immediately.”

“Thank you very much, please excuse me though, that is all the time I have to waste here.”

Only moments later, a huge crowd was gathered in front of the Gringotts Gallery, the Aurors in front of the wall caught fully by surprise.No one had informed them about the new directive, but they could feel the magic draining out of the wall behind them, though no one seemed willing to risk the final step.

On the other side of the wall, in a now empty pub with black furniture Neville Longbottom sat with Draco Malfoy in the little nook where everything had started, facing the walled up window while Luna Lovegood sat with dangling legs on the black stone bar, watching the dance of the sea dragons. 

“This is it then,” Draco had spoken first “I reckon we should do this last thing together as well, don’t you?”

Neville only nodded,unable to trust his voice as his magic roared inside him demanding to be used and his heart tried its best to explode out of his ribcage. Yes this was it, they had truly done it, they had beat them, forever and ever. The joy of this moment was dampened by the sudden intrusive knowledge that meant his time with Draco was up. There was no reason to pretend any longer. With that thought in mind, he grabbed the blond crushing their lips together in their first and last passionate kiss. While their lips met, time seemed to stand still just as much as it seemed to also rush around them. Neville lost himself in the kiss while simultaneously finding a bit of his true self on the soft lips of Draco Malfoy. But as with everything else, the kiss couldn't last and so they broke apart eyes firmly on the sea dragons which for the first time ever had found their way on the bricked up part of the wall right behind the two kissing men. 

But when the two men drew their wands the dragons intertwined to form an archway around the still bricked up window.

“Bombarda!”

As their two spells collided with the bricks the hole exploded in a myriad of colours. It took a few moments before the dust started to clear, but that was all they needed to see the glittering white of Gringotts through it. Every window was now wide open and in the middle of the pubs wall, right under the intertwined dragons, a real archway had formed. 

One last time Neville and Draco walked hand in hand over the flagstones on their now clear path. When they reappeared in Diagon Alley their hands slowly drifted apart. There was no reason left for them to make choices by necessity, but when their eyes met over all the rubble their bombarda had caused Neville realised one thing. He had now all the reasons to make choices based on what he truly wanted. Surrounded by colourful dust he started to smile.

They were heroes now, for more than just one day.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, critique and Kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> If you’d like snippets, information about updates and everything else that comes into my mind go and check out my authors account Sonnen Flower on fb. 🌻


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